TV TIMES

First of all, sorry for not writing sooner; over the last two weeks we’ve been visited by the Sweaty Vomiting Fairy, not a particularly attractive creature, but she sure packs a punch. We finally kicked her out on Sunday, although she left a big bundle of grumpiness with Olly, which he has generously shared with us for the past 48 hours. This latest reign of terror has been done in full Spiderman regalia. He has dangled from the banisters, crawled across the kitchen work surfaces and roly-polyed all over the floor, all the time issuing threats of violence towards us. If we so much as smirk he goes ballistic, yelling “I am not Olly, I am Peter Parker and I will kill you dead.” Steve has even gone so far as to find some Spiderman clips on the Internet to show that unless you’re an arch criminal the arachnid super hero is pretty mild mannered. Not in Olly’s updated version worst luck. Those people who found Black Widows in their grapes got off lightly compared to what we’ve endured with our spider this week.

And having spent so much time with sick kids I have a song going round in my head that just won’t go away: “What’s the story in Ballamory, wouldn’t you like to know?” Oh my God. No wonder Olly acts mental a lot of the time. It’s a psychedelic catastrophe of a programme. “Turn it off,” you shout, “make biscuits with the little darlings, do a collage”. Believe me, I would, and do a lot of the time. But when they are so poorly there is little you can do but lie with them on the sofa and watch TV. I have to confess that usually when the TV’s on I leave them to it; but in Nurse Nancy mode I have sat down with them and some of it is quite astounding. What is the point of Archie in Ballamory? He can’t sing, he can’t dance, he’s a talentless toff living off a private income, yet he is loved and adored by all around him. They are all so nice to each other; it’s just not normal. In fact, despite all the visual evidence to the contrary the Tweenies are a much more realistic group of individuals. They row, tantrum, do naughty things, giggle, cry and moan. But in Ballamory the story - if told by a Red Top Tab - could only be one of mass addiction to happy pills.

I don’t know why so many TV programme makers feel compelled to construct such a saccharine world for our babes. It’s clearly at odds with what most of them experience at home. When some grotty kid pesters the adults in Playhouse Disney for an answer to Why? they never say, “Because it is, ok?” When a child asks to play with an adult in Ballamory they never get told “in a minute”, “later” or “I’ve just got to do the washing first”. In the reality sections of Tubbies, Tweenies or Tikkabilla you never see the kids being dragged screaming round Sainsbury’s, or fighting and kicking whilst being forcibly strapped into their car seat. Children are never offered chocolate to shut them up despite the obvious hyperactive reaction ten minutes later. In fact the nearest any of the characters get to a telling off is a firm but quietly delivered reprimand from Max, on Tweenies. Or an even gentler instruction from Little Bill’s mum. DOESN’T ANYONE YELL?

But maybe kids’ TV should be the epitome of escapism. The children can immerse themselves in a world of kind words and loving instruction, whilst their mad, bad and sleep-deprived mother rants on in the background about how many times she has to bend down to pick up the bloody toys, begs them to please come to the shops with her as there is now no toilet paper, milk or washing powder or berates them for crumbling chocolate muffins into the video recorder. And as she falls to her knees pleading for them to acknowledge her we know that they’re thinking, “No thanks mum, I’m watching a much nicer mummy on CBBC.”

Quote of the Week:

Billie drawing.

Steve: “That's nice Billie, is it a flower?”

Billie: “Quite right Daddy, but wrong, it is a princess.”

Juliet Jones lives in domestic chaos with husband Steve, son Oliver (aged 4) and daughter Billie (aged 2 and a half) in Hertfordshire.